


Perfect

by crmsndragonwngs



Series: Perfect AU [1]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, arima and eto are the same age, jack!Arima
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-05-27 05:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6271399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crmsndragonwngs/pseuds/crmsndragonwngs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes he wonders about normalcy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There are days when Arima Kishou doesn’t want to be the CCG’s Reaper. It’s a vague feeling, like the sort of mild discomfort one might feel when there is a rock in one’s shoe, but it is a nagging and unshakable feeling regardless. One that makes him restless and antsy. On these days, he wanders across the city, guitar case slung across his back and a worn paperback book tucked under one arm, searching for...something. He doesn’t know what.

He sits on a park bench, opens his book in his lap, and watches as Kamii students walk briskly to and from class. He sees a group sit down at a nearby table, paper bags clasped in gloved hands, laughing among themselves at some inside joke unknown to all but themselves, and suddenly he aches. And he thinks, mildly, that perhaps the rock has bruised his foot.

He wants to be a normal kid. He’s 18 now, the same age as the freshmen that scurry along the sidewalk like ants, and grey is already beginning to run through his hair. He has more accolades than any other investigator he’s met, and wields a quinque more easily than many people wield their own arms, but sometimes he feels that something is missing. Friends. School. He’d had these once. 

Once.

He’s never been particularly normal, and for the most part, that was fine. He was content. He was created for a job that requires cold logic and instinctive motion, and it suits him perfectly. But sometimes, he wonders.

Wouldn’t he also be content to have friends to share inside jokes with? Classes to focus on? A girlfriend?

The thought strikes him as he is walking along a sidewalk, guitar case slung across his back, a worn paperback book tucked beneath one arm. He is looking in the windows of the shops he passes, not really seeing or thinking at all. He passes a bookstore, peering inside idly, and that’s when he sees her. 

Her hair is faded green, as though in dire need of being dyed again, and it falls past a slender waist hidden beneath torn overalls. She is talking to a man much older and much taller than she is, and Arima catches the glimmer of her right eye as she tilts her head back to laugh. He wonders, idly, if she is laughing at an inside joke the two of them share, and then he wonders what it is.

Suddenly, he feels...strange. Warm all over, but mostly in his cheeks. He stares without thinking, watching her as she tucks a strand of sea green hair behind her delicate ear, as the corners of her mouth twitch just before she smiles, as her nose crinkles when her lips pull back over white teeth in an unashamed grin. He wonders how anyone could be this...this…

She catches sight of him, her green eye sliding in his direction. She tenses, almost imperceptibly, and then turns to face him fully. Her expression is unreadable but intense, and Arima feels his face heat strangely. At this, her eyes widen, and then she _smiles_.

_How could anyone be this perfect?_

She smiles at him for an eternity, and he is rooted to the spot, unable to think or move, and he wonders what this means. What are these sensations? What is he feeling? He watches her mouth move and wonders what her voice sounds like.

“Hi there!” A male voice chirps suddenly, drawing Arima from the window. “Takatsuki-sensei would like you to come inside, if you wish. The store isn’t supposed to open for signings for another hour, but she wants to make an exception for you since you seem to be holding one of her books!” 

“Sure.” He says after a moment.

“Hello!” The woman says when he enters the store. Her voice is silken and sweet, like honey. “Would you like me to sign your book?”

“Sure.” He repeats, handing her the book.

“What did you think about it?” She asks as she scrawls her name across the inside cover. “The book, I mean.”

“I haven’t read it.” She looks surprised.

“But it’s so worn! Surely you’ve at least read some of it?”

“I bring it hoping I’ll get a chance, but I’m usually busy.” And while that is not a lie, it’s not exactly the truth either. An open book in his lap is an excellent deterrent to conversation when he is working, and it allows him to look natural in the college setting, so that the ghouls hiding among the students do not suspect him. He would like to read it one day, but it is simply a prop in the meantime. 

“Hmm.” She hands the book back to him. “What do you do that has you so busy? You look my age; are you a student?” She gestures to his guitar case. “Or a musician?” He doesn’t answer. Her eyes widen. “Or maybe you’re a spy!” He snorts.

“I’m a student.” It’s the same lie he tells everyone, but somehow it seems wrong. Like she is not a part of ‘everyone’.

“Oh! What do you study?” She asks. He hesitates. “Ah, I’m sorry. I’m so nosy, sometimes I just can’t help myself. I’m Takatsuki Sen, by the way.” She giggles then, and points at the book he still holds in his hands. “But I guess I gave that away, didn’t I.”

“Yes.” The corner of his mouth turning up slightly. “I’m Arima Kishou.”

“Arima Kishou.” Takatsuki says thoughtfully, smiling. “I like that. Would you want to have coffee with me?”

“I--” He starts, unsure, but she looks alarmed and puts up her hands.

“I’m sorry! There I go again! Please, ignore what I just said!” Her face flushes a delicate pink, and suddenly he knows exactly what he’s been seeking.

“Yes.” He says, and then at her bewilderment, amends with, “I would want to have coffee with you.”

“Okay.” She says, astonished, then shakes her head as if to clear it. “Okay! How about we meet here tomorrow around 10?”

“That sounds...nice.” And, somehow, it truly does.


	2. Camber

_This is perfect_ , she thinks. _A perfect opportunity, delivered as if I had asked for it._

She will meet the CCG’s Reaper. She will take him for coffee, lure him back to her apartment, and fill three needs in one night.

It should play out easily enough. Child prodigy or no, he is still a man, and all men want the same thing. She will ply him with pretty words and fluttering eyelashes, lull him with the sway of her hips and the softness of her skin, tear down his walls completely as she consumes him within her own, rocking and sighing, letting his hands drift along her curves. Then, the moment she has him, the moment she brings him close, gasping and pleading for more, she will sink her teeth into the soft flesh at his throat. She will crush his windpipe with the same teeth that flashed and tugged and grazed just moments before. She will lap his blood as it gushes from him with the same tongue that had traced every inch of his body. 

She’ll consume the Reaper wholly, until there is nothing left. 

\---

He is cool, and easy, and he lets her do most of the talking, which she can’t tell if she appreciates or hates. She wonders if this would be better if he were to take control of the conversation, instead of listening so calmly and attentively to every subject she prattles on about just to fill the air. His gaze follows her, watching every flick of her eye and curve of her lips, and she wonders how this would be if he ignored her.

When she can’t stand his attentiveness anymore, she turns the conversation to focus on him. She asks him about school, about his day, anything to get him talking. It takes some coaxing, and maybe a little nagging, but eventually he sighs and begins to speak. His voice is deep and rich, but soft, as though he were speaking into the wind. She watches the bob of his throat as he sips his coffee, the way he pushes his glasses up his nose before brushing his dark hair out of his eyes, the curve of his cheek when she comments and he smiles.

She doesn’t like how that smile makes her feel, and she wonders if this would be better, or at least easier, if he weren’t such an attractive young man.

They talk for a long time, then order fresh coffee and talk some more. Two hours pass easily, then three, then four, and when Eto looks at the clock above the door she is surprised by the time. He notices immediately.

“I apologize, Takatsuki-san. I did not mean to keep you.” Arima replies, reaching and pulling a wallet from his back pocket. Eto waves a hand.

“No, no, it’s alright.” She giggles, waving her hand, amazed at how ridiculous this entire situation really is. He looks at her, one eyebrow lifting, and she giggles again. “Would you mind walking me home, Arima-kun?” His other eyebrow lifts to join the first. “I’d like to go home, but I’m not terribly keen on parting ways just yet. You are a very interesting person, Arima-kun.” And she is amazed at how true that really is. She licks her lips and crushes the strange feeling in her chest.

“Sure.” He says after a moment, his eyes narrowing behind the gleam of his glasses. She smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter might not come for a while. This chapter did not want to happen as it is. If anyone wants to collaborate with me on this at all, please let me know! Cuz I'm honestly at a loss!

**Author's Note:**

> It was so hard to write from Arima's perspective. I tried really hard to pin down his detached demeanor without losing his natural inquisitiveness and perceptiveness. It was really tough, and while I don't think it's perfect, I think I did okay lol.


End file.
